Off the Cyber Shelf

I love the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Part of the reason is that it reminds me of being a kid and entering into that time that all children love, the weeks leading up to Christmas, and Honokaa for my Jewish friends. It’s a time when you burry your head in the toy section of the Sears catalog, circleing frantically everything you want before carefully copying down the item—page umber included—onto a piece of your finest school notebook paper, and then sealing it up in an envelope labeled “North Pole”.” Nothing else on the letter, just North Pole, which you cautiously give to your parents, in fear that they might lose it and then you won’t get what you asked for Christmas. But you give it anyways, knowing that they have to fill out the mandatory seven page questionnaire full of pen ended questions and fill-in-the-blanks on their child’s behavior performance rating for the previous year, which is also to be sealed, though this time signed in duplicate, and mailed to the Santa Inc. Headquarters, C/O Human Resources Associate, behavioral department. The Macy’s parade has always marked the beginning, for me at least, of the Christmas season. And last night, LK and I ventured to the Upper West side for what I hope to be a thanksgiving tradition. She had endured my tradition the night before, when I hosted a Thanksgiving party with a Chicago theme, where we ate deep dish pizza and watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Not an eye was dry during the closing scenes in the Chicago train station. The next day was LK’s day. And despite a really bad chest cold and the exhaustion of substituting for an th grade class of inner city catholic School kids that week, I rallied the strength and took the subway up to the museum of Natural History. That’s where the giant floats for the parade were being blown up for the next day. Their massive shells secured tightly by giant nets and dozens of sand bags while huge hoses fed helium into them from a cluster of funny looking trailers. The crowds showed that we weren’t the only people who thought this might be a cool thing to do on the eve of Thanksgiving. We also thought that we were probably the tallest people there that evening by a good two feet. Kids were everywhere, and just behind them were frazzled mom and dads with thick midwestern accents, their eyes showing that shell-shocked look of being overwhelmed during their first trip to New York with children. It’s not like when they were in college, single, and on the prowl for a late night out. Police wouldn’t let us head down Central Park west, so LK and I ventured through the park, finding a nice gas lit path that brought us out at 76th street into a cluster of fire trucks and busses that were made into ambulances. Before we knew it, we were in the middle of the street beneath a wash of white light. Quickly, we looked lost, LK flashing her pretty eyes at a NYPD sergeant, while I looked much more blind and confused than I normally do. The sergeant allowed us to enter onto the sidewalk opposite the five thousand wailing children on 77th Street. And we learned then that if you ever want to get anywhere in life, just act like you live at 6 West 77th Street. Our mistaken identity for someone who must be real rich and important put us face to face with the stars of the Macy’s parade. Right in front of me, with a nose the size of my whole body, was my best friend as a boy, Snoopy. We also saw Big Bird, Sponge Bob, the Energizer Bunny, Scooby-Doo, lots of giant’s stars, and a pumpkin that could feed the Bronx. Afterwards, we caught dinner on Broadway, just before the rush of families who had escaped the chaos of the other side of 77th Street, and then we headed down to town on the Broadway train, transferring at Penn Station to our Brooklyn bound F Train. The transfer was nice, because it let us walk down 34th street, checking out this year’s window at Macy’s. It was a miracle night indeed. When I think of where I was last Thanksgiving, still in Detroit completely uncertain of my future, I can’t help but think how much I have to give thanks to this holiday season. I’m particularly thankful for one person who held my hand while I looked into the windows along 34th street and Broadway. She caught a train this morning to D.C. for her family thanksgiving. But I know she’s probably watching the parade now, just as I am, and that makes us together today. Happy Thanksgiving, and send my best to the family today. To everyone, Happy Thanksgiving.